


Dockside Empire

by Tikor



Category: Exalted
Genre: Fanfiction, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 15:32:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7177511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tikor/pseuds/Tikor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some setup I wrote for a longer work.  May or may not happen!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dockside Empire

Along the docks walks a clerk wearing the mon of House Mnemon. He passes by a dozen ships on half a dozen docks, wordless and intent. A newly docked ship, similarly labelled Mnemon's property, has a crowd of longshoremen idling around it. They spot the clerk and stand more alertly.  
"Inspection!" The clerk calls when he's in earshot of the ship.  
"Come aboard!" A sailor replies perfunctorily.  
The clerk marches along the dock out over the water, past the longshoremen. Then he turns to ascend the steep angle of the gangplank leading to the ship's hull. Once aboard he's greeted by the first mate. She cheerfully addresses their newest charge.  
"Captain's already climbed the hill. She said - ."  
The clerk walks right past the first mate and down the stairs to the hold paying the ranking seaman no more heed than he would a horse tied to a post. Once down below, the clerk walks down the hall and picks a door at random. It opens, unlocked against his intrusion. Inside are several barrels, sealed with pitch then covered with wax. Each inch of wax has been impressed with a signet ring's sigil.  
The clerk reaches out his arm and upturns his hand. He places his own ring with the same marking as the impression upon the barrel. A spark of light forms where the ring meets its mirror in wax.  
"Count."  
The clerk's words expand the light from a flicker to a bonfire. The sailors abovedeck see the light shine forth from the cracks in the deck between them and the holds even in the daylight. As soon as they turn their heads it recedes.  
The clerk marks a paper as he climbs the steps to the main deck. The first mate accosts the clerk again.  
"If your lordship would hear me out, I'd tell you of the slave's revolt in Serrat.  
The clerk looks at the first mate for the first time. Pocketing his ledger, he speaks to her like a schoolteacher would a child.  
"Save your lordships for the governors and satraps. Of course we know of the revolt in Serrat. Every few years there's a revolt in one the Deshan satrapies. Keep the dinar shipments on time and you'll have the Realm's continued assistance putting it down. Miss a shipment and all the Realm's soldiers will be recalled. Your sister provinces have learned this."  
"If the Realm solders are recalled, the satrap's forces will be overrun. Every free man and woman in Serrat will be killed and their children enslaved. You must have some pull? If only through that ledger? Let us take a few barrels back with us."  
"Careful, I am required to report any bribery solicitation."  
"I ask only out of the goodness of your heart, as a fellow..."  
"We share no fellowship, Northerner."  
The first mate grows more desperate, openly pleading with the clerk.  
"It's impossible to make every shipment when the crops are burned by maddened slaves!"  
"Dehenna has never missed a shipment in the 137 years since its founding."  
"Dehanna has the Ledaals. I'd wager they picked up any slack in the times of revolt. We have only ..."  
"Only the Thousand Scales, the richest single entity in the entirety of Creation. I'm sure your captain is speaking to a representative above my lowly position as we speak. If you are worth it, an exception will be granted. Keeping the slaves in check is the long and the short of the worth of the Deshan satraps, so I'd wager that the only way we don't repeat this procedure in a season's time is if you don't dock in Chanos. Have the longshoremen unload, you pass dockside inspection. I'll be along tomorrow for warehouse inspection."  
The clerk calmly walks down the gangplank. The first mate calls after him.  
"My children are in Deshan! Think of them!"  
"You're a free woman. Tell the satrap yourself."  
  
\- - -  
Mnemon Synthesis sits before his desk, papers neatly stacked with the exception of the one in front of the man. It lays at an angle suitable to his left-handed quill-strokes. On it, he writes a letter:  
Dear Aruna,  
      Chanos stretches the definition of blessed on this isle. The people here have no appreciation for the beauty of Creation that the Dragons have bestowed upon us. If a thing does not glint like silver, crinkle like script, have the weight of Jade or is recorded in a ledger it holds their interest for a few short seconds at most. And I say that as the one keeping the ledgers!  
When the Ledaal business is concluded, please visit this humble yet bored servant of the Realm. I still recall our time at the Cloister of Wisdom fondly. I have never felt meaning so viscerally than when we interpreted the texts together. I would love to do so again.  
Synthesis' quill hovers over the last quarter of the page, unsure how to continue. When the quill hits the parchment again it writes:  
~ Synthesis of House Mnemon  
Synthesis raises the quill, but gives the parchment a disappointed look. He amends it:  
Honest Assessor of the Imperial Tax  
Still unsatisfied, the aristocrat marks the parchment again:  
Division of Loyal Satrapies and Client States.  
Another figure walks into the office, a small ledger in hand.  
"Cirus, see this letter edited and sent to Ledaal Aruna."  
"Of course." The bonded clerk takes the letter from the desk. "The Serrat payment is on time."  
"Even through the revolt? Excellent. Amber River is still late?"  
"Yes."  
"Those Peleps. So full of excuses. Tell whichever clerk came last time that I won't speak with anyone below the status of minister, and if they don't send one by the 15th of Resplendent Earth I'll be forced to submit their lack of compliance formally."  
With the long practice of business between them Synthesis returns to his paperwork with no words after his latest order. Cirus takes steps towards the door but stops before crossing the threshold. He scans the letter with a practiced literacy uncommon among the slaves of Chanos.  
"You speak with familiarity to Ledaal Aruna, yet record your full position. Is she unfamiliar with your standing in the Thousand Scales?"  
"I'm sure I've told her before but she has a large network and we have not been as familiar as we once were. I want to spare her the trouble of having to recall me exactly in case that would cause her hesitation before replying."  
Cirus made a note in the margin of his ledger that had no relation to the numbers normally recorded there:  
Invite entertainment over to the assessor's chambers.  
The slave then smiles at his superior and truly exits.  



End file.
